


the sessions of sweet silent thought

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Forensics (Speech And Debate), M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Viktor Nikiforov is a fucking Slut For Poetry: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: poetry(ˈpəʊɪtri)noun.1. literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature."he felt a desire to investigate through poetry the subjects of life and love"2. something regarded as comparable to poetry in its beauty."the way he moves when he dances is pure poetry"Or: a study in the yearning of a young heart, told through the lens of a single sunny afternoon.





	the sessions of sweet silent thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yuurikatsuckme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuurikatsuckme/gifts).



> Here's a short little ficlet written for a winter gift exchange for my lovely friendo Sophie!!! You Know what au this is, Soph. (But for those of you who don't, it's one in which the YOI cast are on a speech and debate team in high school, Viktor and Yuuri are duo interp partners, and Yuuri also competes in poetry, which he is practicing here.)
> 
> MERR CRISIS SOPH ILY !!!! I hope you like this!!! ♥

“‘The red rose whispers of passion,’” Yuuri reads, “and the white rose breathes of love.  O, the red rose is a falcon, and the white rose is a dove.”

Viktor rests his chin in his hands, smiling.  Yuuri’s voice doesn’t falter this time around, not like it did when he first started reading the poems he and Celestino picked to tell a story.  (A _love_ story.  Yuuri read them to him the first time without saying anything about the theme, asking him if he could piece together what they were all put together to mean, and oh, god, it played his heartstrings like the grandest harp.  A love story.  Soulmates.)

“‘But I send you a cream-colored rosebud, with a flush on its petal tips,’” Yuuri continues, his voice confident if soft.  Perhaps he should keep it just like that for their competitions; he sounds so _sweet,_ talking to this imaginary lover.

… Imaginary lover.

Viktor imagines, just for a moment, that Yuuri is reading these gentle words to him, saying them specifically to _him—_

“For the love that is purest and sweetest… has a kiss of desire on the lips.”

Viktor’s eyes snap to Yuuri’s lips, and a surge of longing rises up in his chest, poignant enough that he nearly jumps up from the couch and kisses him right then and there.  He only barely manages to restrain himself, reminding himself that Yuuri is just reciting poetry and that he can’t risk ruining their friendship, but…

But god, he really, _really_ wants to kiss his best friend.

Yuuri’s lips would probably taste like strawberry chapstick.  He has a cheap one he bought at Walmart once just because his mother kept telling him his lips were chapped, and despite Viktor pointing out that better ones exist, he still uses that strawberry menace.  But if Viktor could just kiss it off his mouth, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

Shifting to stretch his legs out on the couch to hide his discomfort, Viktor drapes himself backwards over the armrest and stares at the ceiling so that he can’t see Yuuri as he moves to the next poem.  He is gay.  He is too gay to have the best friend he’s in love with read love poetry to him on a sunny Friday afternoon while their tea cools on the table and they have the house to themselves and it’s light and intimate and— _he is supposed to be listening, dammit._

“For summer and his pleasure wait on thee,” Yuuri is reading—Shakespeare, now—and Viktor could smack himself for daydreaming about kissing him so hard that he missed the majority of the sonnet.  He’s heard it before, _sure,_ but hearing Yuuri read it to him will never…  He’ll always want to… It’s something he’ll treasure forever.  “‘And thou away, the very birds are mute.’”

_Shakespeare really did put out some relatable content_ , Viktor thinks, sitting up so that he doesn’t zone out again.  This sonnet in particular does a pretty damn good job of describing how he felt when Yuuri and his family went to Japan over winter break, and he stayed here, alone. 

He lets his eyes settle on Yuuri’s lips, watching a little ravenously as Yuuri absently licks them before launching into the final couplet.  God, how he wants to smooth his fingers over them, wants to stroke that soft hair and kiss Yuuri until he moans (how might that sound, teased out of him by Viktor’s mouth, oh god he can’t sit here and think about that—)

“‘Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer, that leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.’”

_I cannot live like this,_ Viktor wants to lament, closing his eyes for a moment.  _This is the worst day of my life, I am going to die, tell Yakov I’m sorry I didn’t last longer, wait, oh god—_

“Yuuri,” he bursts out, then belatedly realizes he interrupted before Yuuri could finish his poems.  Dammit, the next one was Browning’s Sonnet Twenty-one!  He _loves_ that one!  Especially in Yuuri’s voice!

Yuuri, for his part, looks up from his little black binder, eyes widening behind his glasses.  “Yes?  Did I mess something up?”

“No!”  Viktor shakes his head vehemently, then collapses to the couch as dramatically as he can, throwing his legs high up and letting them crash to the cushions as he casts a hand to his forehead.  “When I die, I need you to take care of Makkachin!  Promise me!”

“What?!”  Yuuri looks startled and more than a little alarmed, and for a moment Viktor is terrified that he’s put it together—Viktor is close to death because of Yuuri reading love poetry to him, Viktor is in love, he’s in love, he’s in _love_ —but then, of all things, he starts to laugh.

Viktor props himself up on one elbow, frowning.  “Excuse you.”

Yuuri giggles into his hand, putting the binder down and then sitting down next to him.  “I’m sorry!  Of course I would—I just can’t help it!  I’m reading poetry about love and of _course_ you think about Makkachin, oh my god!”

He breaks into laughter all over again, and Viktor, incredulous, just flops down across his lap.  Yuuri thinks that Viktor suddenly thought about Makkachin because of thinking about love.  Yuuri doesn’t think that Viktor thought of _him,_ not at all.  Yuuri doesn’t think…

Viktor pouts.  “I’m not in love with my _dog,_ Yuuri.”

“What—no!  Ew, of course not!”  Yuuri wrinkles his nose, still laughing, and scrunches a playful hand through Viktor’s hair.  Viktor wants to grab it, longs to tell him to keep it there, yearns to feel Yuuri play with it and stroke it and caress it until he falls asleep, until _they_ fall asleep, together, but…

But he can’t ruin what they have, not when Yuuri must clearly not feel the same way about him.  He can’t lose Yuuri.  He _can’t._

So he just waits, stays, and smiles, doing his best to appreciate what he has.  Yuuri is still laughing, his hand warm when he pulls it away and then pats the back of Viktor’s hand where it lies on his chest.  “I just thought—I mean, it’s cute.  That when you think about love, you remember Makkachin.  It’s sweet.  That’s all.”

“Yeah,” Viktor agrees, a little hollowly.  “When I think about love…”

A heartbeat passes, so full it might burst.  Another.

“Was that any good?” Yuuri finally asks, looking down through his eyelashes.  “I know it’s still not very polished, but I was thinking about what Celestino said about telling the story of the two lovers I’m representing, and how to make it more personal and stuff.  Do you think that worked, or… I don’t know.  What do you think?”

Viktor reaches up, unable to help himself because the ache in his chest is just too strong.  He strokes his thumb along Yuuri’s cheek, tucks a stray lock of slightly-too-long hair back towards his ear, and pretends that the idea of these casual touches being _all_ that he might ever get doesn’t hurt.

His voice, when it comes, is soft and contemplative.  “‘Say thou dost love me, love me, love me…’”

Yuuri’s gaze goes from soft and bemused to gentle and sweet.  “‘Toll the silver iterance,” he murmurs back, smiling.  “Only minding, dear, to love me also in silence with thy soul.’’

_If only,_ Viktor thinks, and smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't fit in the actual fic, but the poems I put together for Yuuri's piece (more or less in the 6-minute-range but I very much eyeballed it) are as follows:
> 
> 1\. ["Monna Innominata [I wish I could remember]"](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/monna-innominata-i-wish-i-could-remember) by Christina Rossetti  
> 2\. ["The White Rose"](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/white-rose) by John Boyle O'Reilly  
> 3\. [Sonnet 97](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/how-winter-hath-my-absence-been-sonnet-97) by William Shakespeare  
> 4\. [Sonnet 21](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/say-over-again-sonnet-21) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning  
> 5\. ["Monna Innominata [I loved you first]"](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/monna-innominata-i-loved-you-first) by Christina Rossetti  
> 6\. ["Monna Innominata [I dream of you, to wake]"](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/monna-innominata-i-dream-you-wake) by Christina Rossetti  
> 7\. [Sonnet 30](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/when-sessions-sweet-silent-thought-sonnet-30) by William Shakespeare
> 
> Shakespeare's Sonnet 30 is also the source of the title of this fic!


End file.
